


later happens later

by blipblorpsnork



Series: i want to feel good (about myself, about you) [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Allusions to abuse, Angst, Bro is dead, DS is also dead technically??, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Familial Abuse, Fraternal Abuse, Gen, Learning to move on, Other, Post-Canon, Recovery, Stream of Consciousness, Strider emotions, Therapy, Trauma, Trauma Survival, abuse mention, autistic!Dave Strider, but definitely something there, dave is introspective, davepeta is somewhere no one knows, not romantic Dave/DS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 04:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blipblorpsnork/pseuds/blipblorpsnork
Summary: It took a year of therapy for you to stop feeling like you had to constantly look over your shoulder when you were home alone. Hell it took longer than that because you’re still healing now and healing is a journey for the long game players or whatever the fuck Rose like to say. You still can’t bring yourself to keep food in the refrigerator—too many memories in that cold white box, too much shit ready to fall out at you in the back of your ticking mind. It’s 3:33 AM, six seconds into the minute, now ten, eleven, twelve, and you can feel the tick of each one in your veins and chest and it’s all part of you and you of it and that’s all you’ll ever be.





	later happens later

**Author's Note:**

> My very first HS fic!! I hope I did Dave some justice :D

It’s 9 AM and you can hear the birds chirping outside. They’re making a racket, just a hell of a lot of noise, so much that some of the sounds hurt your ears and make your brain twinge but you can’t be fucked to reach over to the bedside table and get your ear protectors. Most people would have gotten pissed off by now and while Past You might have gotten annoyed with them you can’t help but give a wry almost-smile and feel a nostalgic tug at your heartstrings when you hear a crow cawing in the distance. It’s 10 AM and the crow is still cawing and you’re still almost-smiling and your chest aches and feels too tight and it feels a bit funny to breathe but you still listen and remember orange highlights and outlines; orange words and a somehow-orange voice. The sun is shining and it’s a beautiful day but there’s a hole in your heart that’s been gnawing at you for at least 5 years maybe even 7 you don’t know when exactly it started and then suddenly it’s 11 PM and you’ve done nothing with your day.

It’s 2 AM and you’re in your bed again, staring out at black nothing through the heavily tinted lenses of your shades and you should be trying to sleep to fix your schedule but you don’t care enough to do so. Your name is Dave Strider, Dave Strider, Dave Strider—it sounds more like a foreign concept nowadays, a title more than a name. You’re disconnected from it, from yourself and your image and the way you’re still treated like a God on this planet and some days you just can’t make sense of the fact that it’s all you. It’s 3:33 AM, six seconds into the minute, now ten, eleven, twelve, and you can feel the tick of each one in your veins and chest and it’s all part of you and you of it and that’s all you’ll ever be.

You think too much and ramble and talk under your breath even more, and now is no different so you mumble something to yourself that doesn’t even make sense, might not even be words, but it’s soothing and it calms you down from what you now recognize as an anxiety attack and experienced far more often when you were young. You feel safe in your room, in the dark with your shades on and your ear protectors firmly in place so all you a hear is the amplified sound of your breath and your own soft voice and all you can do is think.

It took a year of therapy for you to stop feeling like you had to constantly look over your shoulder when you were home alone. Hell it took longer than that because you’re still healing now and healing is a journey for the long game players or whatever the fuck Rose like to say. You still can’t bring yourself to keep food in the refrigerator—too many memories in that cold white box, too much shit ready to fall out at you in the back of your ticking mind. You just keep shelf-stable food or buy fresh shit and use it immediately and that’s how you like it or at least you tell yourself as much. Life is still hard but you have a feeling it’s never not gonna be the thing that it is and you suppose every now and again that sure, you could just hop through time and expediate things, but you’d vowed never to use your God powers again and you’d meant it.

It’s 9 AM and the sun is up and shining and bright and the birds are singing and you’re still awake, no longer mumbling and too tired to sleep. The bags under your eyes are nearly as heavy as your burden of a Knight of Time had been and your shades only do so much to hide the pull of exhaustion on your face but you have nowhere to be and no one in particular to see so you can’t be moved to care. The crow is back again, sitting on top of the eaves of your roof and cawing and this time it hurts more to listen to it because it feels so much like not being able to listen to him and you can’t help but feel that you lost a part of yourself when he died and lost it again when he was prototyped that second fateful time. You don’t know what he was to you or you to him but you were both you at some point and now…

Well now it’s just weird and that’s okay. You still hold on to some of your Strider stoicism even when Rose chastises you for it or your therapist tells you it’s better to let go but it’s something that keeps you safe. Somehow, being like the thing you always hated is a comfort, it’s a veil of safety that reminds you that you don’t have to look over your shoulder for a swinging sword and you also don’t have to forget. Somehow it makes it easier to remember, and you know that’s probably self-destructive but you’re playing the long game like she said and you’re gonna keep playing it til you get to the end if there even is one.

For now you just sit and listen to the birds. Later happens later, and you’re in no rush to meet it face to face.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Thanks so much for getting this far! I'm super excited because I finally finished Homestuck a few days ago and now I'm gonna be balls deep in fic and writing for a while lmao. Don't have much to say today other than MAN do I love writing stream of consciousness for Dave. This is gonna be part of a series where I kinda word vomit about all of the characters I love so expect more in this line of writing! Next up will be Roxy c: As always, if you like what I do and wanna help out a disabled autistic writer (or request a fic!) drop by my Ko-Fi and leave me a tip! Make sure to leave a message if you want a specific topic, pairing, or character in my next piece! Love you all, til next time :D


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